Saharah Blue Posted October 13, 2013 Report Share Posted October 13, 2013 If You Forget Me I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists: aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine. by Pablo Neruda Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted October 18, 2013 Report Share Posted October 18, 2013 What if you slept ... What if you slept And what if In your sleep You dreamed And what if In your dream You went to heaven And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower And what if When you awoke You had that flower in you hand Ah, what then? by Samuel Coleridge Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Pye Dog Posted October 18, 2013 Report Share Posted October 18, 2013 Sonnet Lift not the painted veil which those who live Call Life; though unreal shapes be pictured there And it but mimic all we would believe With colours idly spread, - behind, lurk Fear And Hope, twin Destinies, who ever weave Their shadows o'er the chasm, sightless and drear. I knew one who had lifted it .... he sought, For his lost heart was tender, things to love But found them not alas; nor was there aught The world contains, the which he could approve. Through the unheeding many he did move, A splendour among shadows - a bright blot Upon this gloomy scene - a Spirit that strove For truth, and like the Preacher , found it not. Percy Bysshe Shelley Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted November 20, 2013 Report Share Posted November 20, 2013 Ice The wave, over the wave, a weird thing I saw, through-wrought, and wonderfully ornate: a wonder on the wave --- water become bone. - Anonymous - Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted November 29, 2013 Report Share Posted November 29, 2013 Poem As the cat climbed over the top of the jam closet first the right forefoot carefully then the hind stepped down into the pit of the empty flowerpot. by William Carlos Williams Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted January 17, 2014 Report Share Posted January 17, 2014 First Fig My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-- It gives a lovely light! by Edna St Vincent Millay Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted April 9, 2014 Report Share Posted April 9, 2014 SONG There stands a lonely pine-tree In the north, on a barren height; He sleeps while the ice and snow flakes Swathe him in folds of white. He dreameth of a palm-tree Far in the sunrise-land, Lonely and silent longing On her burning bank of sand. by Heinrich Heine Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
moonbeam beth Posted April 19, 2014 Report Share Posted April 19, 2014 I love this thread and wanted to share, the first Poem that I ever read, therefore learned... not the internals..poetry is a former way of life for moon... If this is mis-quoted in some way, my memory sometimes adds or takes away for preference!! This is how I remember the work... Emily Dickinson I died for Beauty... but I was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining room... He questioned forth softly "Why I failed"? "For Beauty", I replied... "And I... for Truth".. Themself, are One... "We Brethren, are", He said.. And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night... We talked between the Rooms... Until the Moss had reached our lips... And covered up our names.... Edited to acknowledge I may have remembered this wrong! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
moonbeam beth Posted April 24, 2014 Report Share Posted April 24, 2014 I just read this today, made me giggle, hope someone else too... I cannot go to school today" Said little Peggy Ann McKay. "I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash and purple bumps. My mouth is wet, my throat is dry. I'm going blind in my right eye. My tonsils are as big as rocks, I've counted sixteen chicken pox. And there's one more - that's seventeen, And don't you think my face looks green? My leg is cut, my eyes are blue, It might be the instamatic flu. I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, I'm sure that my left leg is broke. My hip hurts when I move my chin, My belly button's caving in. My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained, My 'pendix pains each time it rains. My toes are cold, my toes are numb, I have a sliver in my thumb. My neck is stiff, my voice is weak, I hardly whisper when I speak. My tongue is filling up my mouth, I think my hair is falling out. My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight, My temperature is one-o-eight. My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, There's a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is ... What? What's that? What's that you say? You say today is .............. Saturday? G'bye, I'm going out to play!” ― Shel Silverstein Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
moonbeam beth Posted May 3, 2014 Report Share Posted May 3, 2014 sorry the one above was not for here...didn't realise at the time.. today I am with....Niamh...will stick to more 'classical' in future if the thread prefers... The Longing by Nimah Nawwab Freedom. How her spirit Haunts, Hooks, Entices us all! Freedom, Will the time come For my ideas to roam Across this vast land’s deserts, Through the caverns of the Empty Quarter? For my voice to be sent forth, Crying out in the stillness of a quiet people, A voice among the voiceless? For my thoughts, that hurl around In a never-ending spiral, To settle Mature, grow and flourish In a barren wasteland of shackled minds? Will my spirit be set free— To soar above the undulating palm fronds? Will my essence and heart be unfettered, Forever Freed, Of man-made Thou Shall Nots? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted May 31, 2014 Report Share Posted May 31, 2014 Alone Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don't believe I'm wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. There are some millionaires With money they can't use Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues They've got expensive doctors To cure their hearts of stone. But nobody No, nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. Now if you listen closely I'll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, 'Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. by Maya Angelou *May you rest in peace your words will forever touch the hearts of others 1928-2014 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted July 5, 2014 Report Share Posted July 5, 2014 Beth Shel Silverstein is definitely considered a classic contemporary poet, thanks for contributing to the thread. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted July 5, 2014 Report Share Posted July 5, 2014 “Inside this pencil crouch words that have never been written never been spoken never been taught they’re hiding they’re awake in there dark in the dark hearing us but they won’t come out not for love not for time not for fire even when the dark has worn away they’ll still be there hiding in the air multitudes in days to come may walk through them breathe them be none the wiser what script can it be that they won’t unroll in what language would I recognize it would I be able to follow it to make out the real names of everything maybe there aren’t many it could be that there’s only one word and it’s all we need it’s here in this pencil every pencil in the world is like this” by W.S. Merwin Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted July 11, 2014 Report Share Posted July 11, 2014 Ireland, Ireland Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland, Down thy valleys green and sad, Still thy spirit wanders wailing, Wanders wailing, wanders mad. Long ago that anguish took thee, Ireland, Ireland, green and fair, Spoilers strong in darkness took thee, Broke thy heart and left thee there. Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland, Still thy spirit wanders mad; All too late they love that wronged thee, Ireland, Ireland, green and sad. by Sir Henry Newbolt Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted July 27, 2014 Report Share Posted July 27, 2014 “How clear, how lovely bright, How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free, Up from the eastern sea Soars the delightful day. To-day I shall be strong, No more shall yield to wrong, Shall squander life no more; Days lost, I know not how, I shall retrieve them now; Now I shall keep the vow I never kept before. Ensanguining the skies How heavily it dies Into the west away; Past touch and sight and sound Not further to be found, How hopeless under ground Falls the remorseful day.” by A.E. Housman from A Shropshire Lad Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted October 25, 2014 Report Share Posted October 25, 2014 Bluebird there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the ****s and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he's in there. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? you want to screw up the works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe? there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody's asleep. I say, I know that you're there, so don't be sad. then I put him back, but he's singing a little in there, I haven't quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it's nice enough to make a man weep, but I don't weep, do? by Charles Bukowski Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted December 7, 2015 Report Share Posted December 7, 2015 In Praise of Feeling Bad About Yourself The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn't know what scruples mean. When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. If snakes had hands, they'd claim their hands were clean. A jackal doesn't understand remorse. Lions and lice don't waver in their course. Why should they, when they know they're right? Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton, in every other way they're light. On this third planet of the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is Number One. by Wislawa Szymborska Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saharah Blue Posted December 28, 2015 Report Share Posted December 28, 2015 CurfewSolemnly, mournfully, Dealing its dole,The Curfew Bell Is beginning to toll.Cover the embers, And put out the light;Toil comes with the morning, And rest with the night.Dark grow the windows, And quenched is the fire;Sound fades into silence,-- All footsteps retire.No voice in the chambers, No sound in the hall!Sleep and oblivion Reign over all!II.The book is completed, And closed, like the day;And the hand that has written it Lays it away.Dim grow its fancies; Forgotten they lie;Like coals in the ashes, They darken and die.Song sinks into silence, The story is told,The windows are darkened, The hearth-stone is cold.Darker and darker The black shadows fall;Sleep and oblivion Reign over all. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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